


Foxhole

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen's lonely. So's Annie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foxhole

**Author's Note:**

> Circa 2003.

Ellen’s wiping down the bar one last time, giving it a good elbow-grease polish, when the bell over the door jingles. Without turning, she calls, “We’re closed, so turn right back around the way you came in!”

There’s a chuckle behind her and the bell is silent. “You that eager to get rid of me?”

Ellen turns, setting the rag down deliberately. “Annie Hawkins. Back again? Looking to get whupped at pool again, or you gonna admit I’ve got you beat?”

Annie’s smile widens as she drops into a chair. “You know I let you win last time, right?” She puts a foot on the table, leaning back and crossing the other over it. “I was getting wound up for a hustle.”

Ellen snorts, shoving Annie’s feet back down with one hand as she grabs a bottle of tequila and a couple shot glasses with the other, plunking them down where Annie feet had rested moments ago. “So. Got the wendigo issue dealt with?”

Annie nods and takes a glass after Ellen pours, swirling the liquid with a finger. “Yep. Bobby Singer–d’you know Bobby?–he played backup on this one.”

“Yeah, I know Bobby. Gruff sonuvabitch, but he knows his stuff. He do okay?”

Annie raises the glass. “Yeah, he did good. Very good.”

Ellen looks up and meets the other woman’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

Ellen shakes her head and picks up her own shot. “To living it up in the foxholes.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Annie replies, raising her glass and downing the shot.

\-----

A couple shots later, and they’re both feeling the hour and the alcohol harder than they’d expected.

They’re both laying on the couch in the back room, sides pressed together as they slouch. They’ve abandoned the glasses completely in favor of passing the bottle back and forth.

It’s four in the morning on a Sunday, and the bar doesn’t open again until noon on Monday. With Bill gone going on ten years now, and with Jo off trying to get out of the life, there’s no one who’s going to come home and find them so Ellen figures there’s no harm in getting tipsy with a fellow hunter. She’s on her own time, after all, and accountable to no one.

And when she thinks about the quiet and emptiness of most Sundays at the Roadhouse, she decides this is a much better plan.

Annie is warm beside her, telling a story of the time she’d thought she was tracking a vamp but it turned out to be another hunter trying to go undercover in a nest. The story’s getting a little convoluted, and Annie’s hands are waving around trying to sketch some sort of clarifying diagram in the air and Ellen can’t help but laugh.

Annie grins back at her, and suddenly their faces are much closer than Ellen had thought they were. Then even closer, and closer still, until her eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of warm, firm lips against her own.

She stretches her arm out, trying to set down the tequila, and hasn’t yet found the floor when Annie shifts until their bodies are aligned together and Ellen gives up and drops the bottle with a thunk and a splash, thinking hazily, Alcohol’s a disinfectant. It’s really just cleaning the floor. Her arms come around Annie’s back, one burying itself in thick red hair while the other tugs at Annie’s tee until her fingers can slide under to brush warm skin at her back.

The kiss isn’t soft or gentle or harsh or rough–it’s firm and it’s pleased and unapologetic and Ellen can feel Annie’s smile quirk against her lips.

It’s been a long time. Not just since she’s kissed a girl, though that’s been since she was about seventeen and hadn’t yet met Bill. No, it’s been a long time since she’s kissed someone and meant it.

Annie’s hands are callused, just a little rough, and Ellen loves how the skin feels against her own as fingers sneak into her waistband and caress her hips. She rocks upward instinctively, trying to get even closer to Annie, and her hands push insistently at the shirt blocking her way. Annie lifts up just enough to slide out of it and toss it aside, unclasping and dropping her bra next to the bed.

She starts to draw back down but Ellen halts her with hands on her waist. “Hold it right there,” she says, voice even huskier than usual. “Let me look at you a minute.”

Annie sits up, breasts swaying with the motion, and Ellen reaches out a gentle hand and brushes it along the curve of one. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” she asks quietly.

Hands pull at her shirt and she wriggles out of it quickly, throwing the bra as well, and she sits up so that Annie is straddling her lap and their chests are pressed together.

Ellen’s fingers drift down the dip of Annie’s waist, pulling her closer and mouthing down her neck and clavicle until she can take a nipple in her mouth and bite it gently. Annie gasps and tosses her head back, and Ellen’s heart stutters at the long line of neck exposed. She sucks lightly and Annie moans, shoulders flexing and hands clenching on Ellen’s ribcage, then sliding down to unbutton Ellen’s jeans. Her mouth brushes against Ellen’s ear, and the warm breath leaves Ellen shuddering slightly, a jolt of heat rushing through her as she raises up enough to shove her clothing down to her knees, then tilting to wrestle them off as Annie does the same with her own.

Finally they’re both bare, bodies pressed together from calves to shoulders, and Ellen’s hands slide down to cup Annie’s buttocks as Annie’s hair hangs down to curtain them off from the faint lights of the bar. “It’s good to see you, Annie,” she whispers, voice low, and leans up for a deep kiss, pulling the other woman tightly against her body. "It's been too long."

Annie only grins against her, sliding hands down her body, and Ellen can't say much after that. 


End file.
